


It May Spins

by wtngrapture



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: 1995, Drugs, Incest, M/M, graphiclanguage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtngrapture/pseuds/wtngrapture
Summary: A silly, silly, stupid game, Noel thought. He saw the translucent green flash spin like a race car on the floor tiles at a hectic, suffocating rhythm. Intriguing and at the same time, in charge of proclaiming how much, or how little shame he'd have to drown down his throat when he is finally sharing saliva.Teenagers don't really get overwhelmed with this?





	

The whole band walks across the hotel hall in confident silence. The young Gallagher waves a hand to the receptionist and grins sarcastically, his bald friend smiles as well just like they were mentally communicating, like they had something up their sleeves. Then, the lead guitarist, heading the group, opens the tinted glass door of the hotel's restaurant. That in this particular night acted as the makeshift bar for the lots expected to go around there, looking for the acclaimed attraction.

The blinds are rolled down and the room is freed of every chair and table, replaced by those tall black pub tables and stools, and lots of empty space. The wooden old bar is already full of people, and many waiters provide them of every sort of liquors, wearing their elegant uniforms and really not aware of how was to face an Oasis party night.

When the lads are barely three members inside, the atmosphere transforms into Italian mafia vibe. Every head turns around and the mirror wall lights glisten across Noel Gallagher's dark sunglasses, who's got a cigarette dangling in his lips. Turned off.

—Has anybody got a fucking lighter over here? — shouts Liam, shaking his broken lighter in the air. All of sudden tension becomes an ovation, the dozens rise up their arms and sing the band's name once and over again. Five seconds so Liam can take the first puff of his cigarette. Tonight's gig was glorious.

 

 — _Can you please hang out the phone already?_ — _the voice firm and faint is heard frighteningly too close to Liam's ear. Shouting, he breaks his smile and turns around jumping, then almost falls down onto the bedside table._

— _Fuck's sake Noel, what are you doing here?_ — _he gasped, trying to preserve his dignity._

— _What was all that giggling about? Talking to mam?_

 _Liam nodded_ — _Get out, I'm getting ready._

— _I've never said goodbye to her with "I can't wait to kiss that mouth of yours". I suppose it's a private thingy._

— _I said get out, I'm getting ready_ — _said Liam, emphasizing every syllable._

— _There's no time for fucking getting ready, we've all been waiting for you thirty minutes now. Aren't there more moments on the day to call your boyfriend?_ — _snarled Noel mockingly, both hands in his trouser's pockets. That would cause an effect on Liam's face which turned from angry, to delusional, to slightly blushed at the tip of his nose and his cheeks._

— _Don't speak about him._

— _No?_

— _Don't. You can't_ — _the older kept his omnipotence posture just like he even was taller than Liam for a second and could stare down at him, who actually bowed his head and passed by Noel pushing him some inches aside._

 

—I’ve got an amazing idea! —Paul Arthurs jumps from the floor and his deep characteristic voice makes every person sitting on a circle turn their heads.

The girl leaning onto Liam’s shoulder, nuzzling her chin in one of them, in such a way that he had the strawberry chew-gum smell stuck in his nostril, asked first:

—What’s it about?

—Wait a moment princess—the young man took 10 seconds to turn around and obscenely lean his head on the glass table. A rough sniff and he twists his fingers nervously as he talks again.

—Does someone got one of them Daniels empty bottle? —his eye catches some fuddled Guisy who’s looking back at him, gulping the last drops of whiskey from the requested object..

—Here—he says, raising it. Meanwhile, Noel arrives shuffling from other side of the party and joins the very important people circle, right beside his brother, making room for the brunette girl that, more or less, had been buzzing around him all the night.

Noel looks for his brother’s eyes and for a moment, stares into them, then nuzzles his wrist with a firm grip, and that’s pretty much all the interaction they had have for hours.

 

_Neither Noel nor Liam taste a bite of their American food dinner, something more interesting seems to be happening where their hands are under the table. Noel’s index slides into Liam’s pocket in and out, plays with the frayed fabric. Index entwine and their arms swing together in a motion, playing, amused to see how that raises and lows the tablecloth once and over again. Both of them laugh. Noel suddenly feels very annoyed by how Liam’s hair had got stuck in his black jumper’s neck, and slides it out with his hand. He brushes the hair with his fingers very slowly, like he is so concentrated in their conversation he isn’t even noticing. Liam’s cheek is purposely cupped in his palm and Noel’s arm acts like a grip which slowly brings his brother’s face closer, so slowly that it’s unnoticeable._

_People is eating anyway and much food that tastes so good after a long gig is a concept that keeps you focused. Noel thinks he could even lock their lips together and nobody would see, just as a reward because Liam, you sang so well._

—Have some of you ever played Spin the Bottle? —Bonehead exclaims, running his fast gaze through every pretty girl who sits on the circle. His eyes sparkle.

—What’s that? —asks Guigsy making the crowd giggle. For its part the rhythm guitarist clears the part of the floor which is surrounded by the group, throwing glasses and ashtrays somewhere else, and pins the leaned bottle on the middle.

—Look, my dear Guigs— he explains the rules as he finds himself a spot between two blonde girls —starting from left to right, each one has their turn to spin the bottle, and they have to kiss the person the bottle’s pointing to when it stops. Easy right?

Everyone laughs again, not giving very much credit in case the guy is really just joking. Noel arches an ironic brow —I’m not 15 years old to be playing that bullshit.

—It’s gonna be funny.

—Yes, very funny—Liam encourages and grips his sleeve pulling him further into the circle. After this apparent willing to play from the singer, everybody heats up a bit and pays attention.

 —No, this is ridiculous—Noel is ignored this time—Come on, we all could be doing something better!

—You start—Bonehead points at Noel’s feminine partner, who looks at him with a wide smile.

—And if one of us refuses to do it? — speaks Alan who looked like in another world during the whole conversation. Noel gives him heart eyes.

—Each time you refuse you take some clothes out— giggles Liam.

—No, that's not in the rules! You can't refuse! —shouts a girl and Bonehead claps his hands.

—Just pecks for the first round though— he states—As for Liam and Noel, they can hug.

—Not our first time kissing anyway— mutters Liam and receives another grip in his wrist, an aching one this time.

If you blink, you'll miss it. In this first lap silence could be cut with a knife, some quick glances are exchanged, the groupie puts another strawberry gum into her mouth.

 

_It's an old gigantic hotel with doors getting you nowhere, corridors, halls, bars, wooden frames and decoration laying here and there. Liam kicks his ankle against one tall plantpot and moans in pain inside this horny woman's mouth. She pushes herself against the wall and grabs Liam's sleeves strongly, places his arms next to both sides of her body._

_She is one of those girls who likes domination coming from his partner. Keeps spreading her legs wider and Liam's knee slides in between. There, in the corridor, they hear distant footsteps as the woman's wrists are caged by the singers hands. Her own fingers travel down Liam's thorax  in an awkward furious rhythm and grasp his trouser's button. Their lips draw apart for a second to get some air, the trouser's zip slips down._

— _Wait_ — _pants Liam pushing her hand away—Not here._

— _Do you wanna take me to your room?_ — _she says as she adjusts her dress decently_.

— _Actually... no, no. I don't think so._

_—What does that mean, you don't think so._

_—No, I... —he brushes his forehead exhausted—Good night. Have a nice one._

_Liam walks as fast as his legs let him towards the stairs corner. Someone calls him cunt from the bottom of the corridor but, fuck, his headache is going worse._

_It takes him a lifetime to find the room's keys lost somewhere on the coat's inner pockets. Holding his head with his both hands, falls flat on the off-white duvet._

—Fucking lucky cunt Guigs! —some English voice shouts, the curled head of the bassist rises up with the brightest grin any of his band mates had ever seen before. Some cursing and laughing are spread and he pecks the cute groupie quick and cheered.

Bonehead does the maths in his brain and he realizes he would have actually been a number one in class, if he had tried. Five lads for eight birds, some quick percentages and a rather likeable 60% possibility to kiss a smooth face, and anyway he is getting very pissed right now so he doesn't think he cares. Luckily enough, his first round goes great and he stains himself with lipstick. None beards have kissed each other by now. Noel spins the bottle with firm strength.

—And there it goes! —hums Liam.

—Shut the fuck up.

—Guigsy, tonight is your lucky night!

Paul McGuigan's eyes roll to the back of his head. The threatening green circle stares into his soul with its dark eye. Suddenly it jumps from its place, sent by Noel's foot somewhere in the club.

—I'm not playing this motherfucking shit.

—Mate! —Bonehead shouts out in disapproval—how much does it cost you?

—It's Guigsy! —he snaps, as the poor victim of the game slowly buries his head in his shirt's collar.

—So what?

—Yeah, so what? —repeats Liam, chewing the strawberry gum he stole from that girl's mouth when the bottle ordered. Noel frowns, sits down on the floor. He thinks this game is really fucking stupid. The most stupid thing they could have done. "Not funny at all" he thinks, so loud that he almost mutters it.

—Close your eyes dickhead—he leans forward through the circle and pecks Guigsy's pale lips. He thinks he is not gonna do it for the second round.

 

_A hammer goes repeatedly smashing this wall inside his brain. Loud, thick hits over the same crack spreading it larger and larger. He closes his eyes tight until he sees dots of fluorescent lights waving in the darkness of his lids. Opens his eyes all at once, and the colored dots travel to the ceiling of the room drawing well-known figures for him. He shapes the figures in the air with his hands: those girl's hips, his record-player of his Manchester's bedroom, Noel's cupid's bow. His own fringe being perfectly brushed earlier that night, the head of his microphone, the hand's veins of that man he calls every day, lets him be himself for a while each time they talk._

_The hammer won't stop being louder. It sounds like knocks, metal against skin, knuckles against wood. The crack sound of a key twisting inside the door lock._

_—Are you here? —says a drunken yell while a strip of light sneaks inside Liam's bedroom. He sits on the bed adjusting his eyes to the light._

_—Why weren't you answering? What the fuck?_

_—Noel what do you want..._

_—People is looking for you everywhere— Noel wobbles his feet from one to the other side of the place —People, me._

_—Go away, I'm not in the mood._

_—In the mood for what? —Noel giggles—I saw that bird of yours all alone and gloomy sitting on one stool._

_Silence remains. Liam observes his brother grinning, holding a beer that shakes quite dangerously between his hand._

_—I thought you were together tonight._

_—You are really pissed— he stands up and removes the can of Noel's hand —For one time you're more pissed that me._

_—Don't be so sure kid._

_—Go now._

_The bed cracks as Noel lays the whole dead weight of his body on it_ — _Wow... my head is really spinning._

_—Mine as well._

_—Stop trying to kick me out like a dog every time. I'm your lover. We should be fucking sleeping in the fucking same bed every night._

_—Yes, as long as we are on tour innit._

_—Fuck yeah. As long as you're not too busy sucking other geezer off—Noel says, rising up his tone._

_—Just say that again and I'm gonna smash your head against the fucking headboard—growls Liam, swelling his chest and tilting his body forward._

_Noel stays impassive before his brother's threat, instead of snapping back some of his sarcastic teases. Or just a simple fuckoffdick'ead. His hand runs through his mouth and he breathes sharply, a few times._

_—Fuck..._

_—What's wrong. Noel._

_Liam is pushed out of the way and he thinks the bathroom's door is going to break  in half when Noel slams it back him. There's a huge puddle of beer in the carpet._

_—Fuck, this is gonna smell so bad._

 

It's pretty curious how this kind of parties develop. Everybody is meant to be here because man, here is Oasis. But Liam swinging from the bar to his spot on the floor, is the most of Oasis you're gonna see this night, as the things seems to be going. Nobody looks like they care though. Only those girls mesmerized by the circled motion of run of the bottle, and the new rule Bonehead just put on command.

—Second lap with real kisses!

Giggling and flushed cheeks and teeth smashing is what's this all about. Like what's about to happen for (ironically) Bonehead's hand's fault who set the bottle pointing to his best friend's direction. Liam's got that cheeky smile of him which shows every one of his white teeth, Noel just tries to make his frown not so obvious.

—I'm not gonna touch you fuck if you make that face—Paul laughs and covers Liam's duck face up with his palm.

—You don't love me, honey?

—So disgusting, love— the bald boy holds Liam by his nape and decides to end the nonsense teasing. He kisses his friend frenetically, introduces his tongue in the younger man's mouth at the second, and performs the mechanics like a robot. It could last as long as they wanted it to last. Like a hook, Liam grabs Bonehead's neck and moves his head forward taking the control of the situation. His programming is more complicated than Paul's. He manages  to show a demonstration of skills for kissing and twisting tongues and brushing lips, that end up swollen too much for Bonehead's likes.

All the girls clap together, when the boys finally lean back on their sits.

—Well, that was very fucking gay.

Bonehead blinks at a speed of four times for second. Liam's wrist doesn't receive a grip, but a punch.

 

_He goes through the bathroom's door as well and watches Noel retching bending over the ceramic toilet. What's probably going to smell a lot worse. He grabs a towel from one worktop and gets on his knees to carefully dry all the beer, each drop of it staining the dark carpet. Then,  throws the towel somewhere in the bathroom (that's more of a problem for the room service) and stands behind his busted brother, who pukes until he seems he is gonna puke his lungs out._

_—Easy— Liam holds his breath and his brother up by his arms._

_—It's very stuffy here... For the fuck's sake, open a fucking window—coughs Noel with hoarse voice, drops of sweat running down his forehead._

_—You're just hot cause you're pissed—he looks down to Noel's chest for a second—this is a fucking disaster._

_—Don't pull that fucking grossed-out face. I've had to do this for you before._

_—Shut up—as well as he can, Liam drags his brother into the wide shower cubicle—You talk way too much to be almost fainting._

_—Who the fuck is fainting—mutters Noel, while his brother cleans his chest with water. Liam gets rid of the clothes one by one and gives the shower to Noel to clean himself. Little by little, the older man passes the water jet through his whole body, finding peace on it's warm massage. Liam gets out to provide him a towel when he is done._

_Noel goes out of the shower staggering, and loses the towel when he tries to find some balance leaning on the sink. Liam rolls him up again into it, and dries him off._

_Once under the duvet, Noel's naked body curls up, he breathes sharply, suffocated, still dealing with that alcohol haze. Through the corner of his eye spots Liam undressing himself this time, wearing a blue undershirt. Tries to dry his soaked hair rising his arms up, the towel squeezes his dark brown hair and messes it up.  Noel pierces his glance on a tiny drop of water, that is lucky enough to slide through a gap of his undershirt's neck, travel all the way down his spine and rest itself on his back dimple._

_He thinks there nothing else he can do but extend his arm, and dry the drop of water with his own finger, poking Liam's dimple, displaying a stupid satisfied grin right after._

_—What do you want? —asks the younger not even turning around._

_—Come 'ere—Liam takes a step forward where Noel's finger can't keep touching him. Pretty dignified, he ignores Noel's moaning calling him ceaseless. At the moment he feels satisfied he can do that for once, even though it's because Noel is drunk. Who cares, because drunk people always says the truth._

_—Don't wear trousers to sleep would ya? They're so uncomfortable._

_From the hotel's wardrobe Liam takes out a small pillow for him. He lays his body as close to the opposite side of Noel of the bed as possible, and hugs his pillow tight, staying out of the duvet and giving his back to his brother._

_—Good night—he hums—Turn off the light Noel._

_Noel doesn't move an inch. He is too concentrated on keeping his own balance while he tries to study the entire Liam's bone structure._

_—I can't._

_—The switcher is right above you, idiot._

_—I just can't._

_This might be the most annoying version of Noel he's ever meet. Indeed, right when he is on his knees pushing that fucking switcher, Noel gets a strong hold of both his arms. He pushes him down onto his chest, Liam's elbows hitting his shoulders. In spite of whatever pain and struggles his brother can cause, Noel's trembling and clumsy arms take strength out of nowhere to keep their bodies together._

_—Listen to me— whispers holding Liam's cheeks forcing him to keep his eyes focused down— I said listen to me._

_Noel talks in a steady tone and it triggers a rush of nervousness and Liam feels butterflies in his stomach. Shut up, and hear._

Fourth lap. I suppose everybody has got sick of playing this by now. Why don't you, Liam, just don't make that girl dig her knees on the cold floor, just for the sake of kissing you. Stop making all of those disgusting noises for us to hear, her saliva and your tongue and the sound of lips clashing together, annoying Noel to the point it sets his teeth on edge.

She looks disappointed about having to get down Liam's lap so he can spin the bottle once again. Surprisingly, he gives it that kind of effect only experimented players know how to give, and the glass points on her direction. She takes a large sip of whisky before anything.

Noel is about to throw up once again. He’s been trying to explain to himself how his stomach can handle so much alcohol and shit, day after day. He’s also been trying to understand how he keeps his sanity. He needs them, for the gigs though. He needs the drugs to be one hundred percent there.

He’s got these little crazes dominating him like the fact, actual fact, that he can’t stand not having his hands on Liam all the time. Truth is his brother needs to relation with other people but, does he really needs to do it when he is there? He doesn’t think so. He knows it’s impossible but, if he could manage the whole world, Liam’s eyes only could look at him for the rest of his life.

—It fucking had to happen— Noel’s eyes pop open all of a sudden.

—Why is everybody laughing at me? —he shouts, then he sees his brother stupidly pointing at his own self with the bottle, grinning.

—Your turn to kiss me Noely.

—Nope— he stands on his feet and points at Liam— that’s right where I stop. I’m not going to make a clown of myself anymore tonight.

 

_Nervously shaking, like a small caged animal, he forces a gesture on his face that tries to show courage, or something like that. Noel thinks he looks like an angry hamster, a cartoon show’s one, with his cheeks squashed among his hands._

_—Hamster— he mutters, and before he starts laughing he kisses Liam’s cheek, who answers a “what”, and immediately he shouts it louder._

_—What? Let me go you drunk bastard. You shouldn’t be laughing. Look what you did with my bathroom, you’re just a drunk bastard. Let me go. Take me off!_

_He rolls himself off Noel and falls on the mattress. Noel’s hands are soon pressing his chest down, he’s leaning all his weight onto Liam._

_—You’re all mine— he says. His gaze shows no longer a drunken delirium. It’s like it could come the whole room alive._

_—Just mine. Of my possession. Is it clear?_

_Noel asks, he receives no other answer but Liam’s cough escaping of his hand’s pressure. He presses just a bit harder to steal a rough kiss. His brother’s mouth opens at the second letting him bite his bottom lip, taste him deeper, take his breath away for an instant._

_The separate and Noel’s hands crawl down Liam’s sides, wrinkling that blue shirt that Noel loves. Underneath him Liam feels warm, he feels like he could use him like a plush toy. He rolls Liam until he’s lying on his side and embraces him tight from behind, shivering in satisfaction once again._

_—I’m not—Liam whispers. Noel seals his lips with one finger._

 

—Where did you go this morning?

—This morning? — Noel repeats. He spins on his stool to face Liam, rolling his eyes finding the answer on the back of his mind.

—I went nowhere. Why?

—I don’t know. I thought you were going to be still there. Just that—Liam shrugs.

Noel hisses to him and jumps of his stool to hold his feminine company that night, who looks at him with invitee expression.

—Listen, kid. Don’t take so hard what I say to you when I’m drunk. It’s not… like, “literally” — he arches his brows, and disappears between the crowd within instants.

Liam holds the bottle in his fist. He was supposed to throw it to the bin, but, he doesn’t exactly know why, he needs to keep feeling that piece of glass. He spots an identic Daniel’s bottle somewhere behind the bar and happily pays for it. When he gets it, he pours the whole content inside the one who was empty, fulling it to its top. Smiling, he takes it to his room.

**Author's Note:**

> second part maybe???


End file.
